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http://www.archive.org/details/mysticsongsoffirOObehe 



MYSTIC SONGS OF FIRE AND FLAME 



MYSTIC SONGS 

OF 

FIRE AND FLAME 



K. ARTHUR-BEHENNA 

Author of "Love Victorious" 

With an Appreciation by 
STANWOOD COBB 




THE CORNHILL COMPANY 
BOSTON 






Copyright 1921 
By THE CORNHILL COMPANY 

All rights reserved 



JUL 28 1321 

©CLA622437 



*\^ I 



\ 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Prelude 1 

The Mystery 2 

The Chaunt of the Electric Mate .... 3 

The Bridegroom 10 

A Fragment 15 

The Song of the Souls Meeting 

The Song of the Flaming Soul 17 

A Fragment from "The Hidden Way" 

The Song of the Morning Star 19 

The Song of the Harvester 23 

A Fragment from "The Hidden Way" 

A Fragment 24 

The Song of the Wine 

Love Triumphant — "A Dream" 25 

The Closed Mills 27 

The Song of the Bolshevihi — The Aftermath 

The Spirit of the Age 29 

The Veiled Soul . .31 

The White Rose 33 

Love's Cry 34 

God's Flowers 35 

To the Dweller in the Forest 36 

A Group of Nature Sonnets 

A Song 45 

His Creed 47 

A Fragment 50 

Song 

An Interlude 52 

Maturity 54 

The New Song of a New Cycle 57 

[V] 



PAGE 

The Very God of Very God 59 

The Dream Face 62 

A Fragment from "The Hidden Way" 

Passion and Rebirth 64 

The Battle of Love and Death 67 

The God of War 70 

The Song of the Lark 72 

i 

The Witch of the North .74 

Love's Crown . 76 

L'Envoi 77 



[vi] 



FOREWORD 

What is inspiration? Plato describes it in 
Phsedrus as a frenzy seizing the artist, similar to 
the frenzy which seized the Delphic priestesses when 
they gave their prophecies. Now the priestess of 
Apollo prophesied under the control of the god she 
served. Did Plato mean to indicate that the artist 
produces his art work under a similar control? 

The subject of artistic inspiration is approached 
from a new point of view in this day of fast multiply- 
ing books of poetry and of prose purporting to be 
written automatically. Almost every publishing 
house now contains such books on its list, and the 
reading public has long since been convinced of the 
sincerity of such output, which it first viewed in- 
credulously. A certain style characterizes all such 
writing — a potent fluency running often into gar- 
rulousness, often into turgidness that is almost 
opaque. At its best such writing is exquisitely 
beautiful. 

The same unearthly beauty characterizes the style 
of one who writes under drug stimulation, as De 
Quincy and Coleridge; of alcoholics, such as Poe, 
of so-called insane people, and of people under a 
powerful religious inspiration. The Suras of Mo- 
hammed — illiterate camel driver feeling himself in- 
spired by the Angel Gabriel — had a beauty so 
potent as to become the criterion for style in all 
subsequent Arabic literature. Blake, with his 
strange mystic mutterings, coming also from an 
angel as he maintained, is another example to the 

[vii] 



point; also his drawings, considered by many as 
marvelous in their power of delineation. The writer 
knows a child of fourteen who draws and paints 
under inspiration, producing an art-work exquisitely 
beautiful and technically perfect as fast as her 
pencil and brush will work. She tells her mother 
that she does not like to be praised for her achieve- 
ments because it is not herself, but angels who do 
it for her. 

Is there any true artist who claims his work as 
his own? Does one not feel always that one is merely 
a medium for beauty to be poured out into a world 
of darkness and of sorrow? From what source one 
knows not. Call it Apollo, or the Muses ; call it the 
Angel Gabriel; call it spirits of the departed; call 
it the subconscious self, — it matters not what name 
is given, the phenomenon is the same in any case. 
It is not the conscious self which creates the beauty 
of art. 

Shall we say, then, that there is a strange realm 
into which the artist-soul ventures, sub-conscious to 
the reason, from which are brought back argosies of 
beauty to glorify our earth-dull hours? Do the 
artist, the seer, the prophet, mount to higher planes 
of being on the wings of inspiration, and perceive 
wonders which are unperceived of common mortals? 
Joseph Stillman, founder of osteopathy, credits the 
discovery to the spirit of the ancient Greek physician, 
iEsculapius, who showed him in a dream this strange 
new method of healing. So with many discoveries 
and inventions. Primitive tradition, indeed, as- 
cribes all the inventions of civilization to the gods. 

[ viii ] 



Does the other world, then, infringe upon this 
one — and are mortals able at times to penetrate the 
Abodes of Bliss and bring back essences of knowl- 
edge ? 

And now to this strange list of automatically- 
inspired writings is added this little volume, "Mystic 
Songs of Flame and Fire." The author has pre- 
ferred hitherto to write under a nom-de-plume, John 
Prendregeist, meaning "to grasp the spirit." So the 
builders of medieval cathedrals wrought their beauty 
anonymously. One's message then is pure and from 
the sky — and free from human personality. 

These poems came to the author under auditory 
control — spoken as it were to the inner ear, word by 
word. I love them for their beauty, as I love also 
his sequence of sonnets, "Love Triumphant," written 
in the same way, and fiery with a beauty such as the 
laboring mortal pen never can achieve. Like William 
Blake, this author, also, paints under inspiration 
strange mystic pictures to illuminate the poems and 
other thoughts. 

But it is not only beauty of a scintillating, helion 
quality that these poems convey. A message lies 
concealed in them — which may or may not be appar- 
ent to the reader. Poetry is such a wonderfully pro- 
tecting medium. It saves one from casting one's 
pearls before swine. Prose must say its message and 
stand challenge for its truth, but poetry, especially 
the mystic kind, escapes challenge. Those readers 
who are not of its kind do not understand it — and 
are consequently unable to deride its teaching. 
Those who are prepared in heart drink in the truths 

[ix] 



as a thirsty plant absorbs moisture and food. 
Therefore Christ spoke in parables and said, "Ho ye, 
every one that thirsteth, come ye and drink, without 
money and without price." 

There are many who are today thirsting for a 
solution to sex. May such read and perceive the 
message herein conveyed by an inspired poet — a 
teaching of love fit for the New Day that is 
approaching. 

Stanwood Cobb. 



[x] 



PRELUDE 

Some souls there are which feed on work, some live in 

thought alone. 
But some at once to fountain-head of Love are ever 

drawn. 
Love is the hidden motive power which drives the 

world along, 
Love is the breath of tree and flower and gives the 

birds their song: 
Love hath its heights and hath its depths which 

space could never span, 
Love is the golden key of life, which God hath given 

to man. 
Love is the golden ladder hung between the earth and 

heaven, 
Love is the Crown the Victor wears, when self, from 

spirit's riven. 



[1] 



THE MYSTERY 

It is not that thy lips are not most dear 
And fill my clamouring body with delight. 
It is not that apart from thee I walk 
In shadows gray, which shut thee from my sight. 
It is not that the pulsing blood which flows 
In fiery jets, would leap, dear one, to thee 
Like jewelled rain from some mysterious source, 
Wert thou mine own and I, dear one, were free. 
It is not this which tells me I will love 
Thy form, thy face, thine eyes, thine every move. 
Ah, more than this, it is thy soul which calls, 
And bids me all my passioned manhood prove. 
It is thy soul which meets me on the verge 
Of some deep joy, forgotten, long ago, 
And all my senses grope and strive for light 
To learn the Why, to question and to know. 
Perchance the day will come when I will leap 
O'er every bar, and draw thee to my side 
And shall absorb and hold thy very self, 
A second Adam by love deified. 



[2] 



THE CHAUNT OF THE ELECTRIC MATE 

Finger on lip I listen 

For call of the Splendid One : 

Was it the note of heron 

Which pipes to the dying sun? 

I lean again and listen, 

The beat of my heart is loud, 

Was it the wind which trembled 

And through the pale leaves soughed? 

The wan mist from the sedges 

Rises in white amaze, 

The night hath yet no darkness, 

The moon with light is ablaze. 

Lie still, O heart, in silence ; 

Art panting? Nay, hist, await. 

Why do I bend and listen, 

Am I not his long-sought mate? 

In pathways dark he sought me, 

Yea, in the deeps of hell, 

Soiled his lips with their fruitage ; 

In loves that were lusts, he fell. 

Now freed, he walks triumphant 

With splendour and light around, 

By the law of Love and Light 

Are body and Spirit crowned. 

One fetter yet unloosened 

Doth hold him apart from me. 

Bolt of the gods can sunder, 

For Scions of light are free. 



[3] 



Ah ! Hark, I hear 

With joy and fear, 

His loud exultant cry, 

My soul doth quake, 

Yet pants to slake 

His thirst, I fly, I fly. 

He seeks, he calls, 

My heart enthralls, 

My flying footsteps creep 

And pangs of love 

And throbs of joy 

In billows o'er me sweep. 

He comes, he calls, 

He seizes me, 

I faint within his hold. 

And loud he chants 

His song of love, 

My soul he doth enfold. 

"Lean to me, Love me, 
Lover and wife, 
Thou body and soul of me, 
Clasp me and crown me, 
Bind thee around me, 
Slake my thirst in thee. 
Lift me and lead me, 
Feed me, I need thee, 
Mate of my love and life. 
Lave me and bathe me, 
Yea, consecrate me, 
Crown me, thou God-given wife. 



4] 



Embrace me, encase me, 
Seek me and keep me 
In curve of thine arm enfold. 
Breathe me and weave me, 
Guide me and shrive me, 
Spirit so subtle-souled. 
Loosen thy flame, 
With roseate shame, 
Blend now thy white desire 
Cleave thee, receive me, 
Fill me and still me 
In thy tumultuous fire." 



Pale with the glory of love 

I draw from out his arms, 

My heart, like a pallid ghost 

Raps faint its bursting alarms. 

But my soul hath found its mate 

Severed long aeons ago, 

My blood with sudden burst 

Spouts into fiery flow, 

My limbs, now weak like water, 

Are from nuptial robe unveiled. 

With waves of hot-blood rapture 

The citadel is assailed. 

Prone in my wild endeavour 

To fly from his grasp, I fall. 

My heart all sapped with weakness 

My footsteps again enthrall. 

Mouth to mouth now fastened 

Tumultuous heave of breast 

[5] 



Passion of sweet surrender 

And love is at last confest. 

Yea, lip to lip impassioned 

In a kiss of flame and fire 

My beloved slakes his thirst 

In the well of his desire ! 

Now limb with limb entwining 

Through our earth-forms glad and warm, 

A passage for birth of gods ! 

A channel of love we form. 
"Crown of my flaming spirit 

Proud wife in thy glad bestowal." 

His words surge through my senses ; 
"Mate of my thund'rous soul !" 

Anguish ecstatic fills me 

And glory of perfect love 

Eyes of my lord above me 

Glow like the suns above. 

Now breath of his seeking lips 

Like a simoon sweeps my breast, 

And lips to lips are cleaving 

In ardour of joy o'er-prest. 

Filled with new life electric 

Are our earth-forms blent in one, 

And the glory of our union 

Thrills up to the blood-red sun. 



I am the mate electric 
The well of my love's desire, 
Rosy and amber the incense, 
On which our flames aspire. 

[6] 



O'er arid wastes of desert 
My soul hath made its moan, 
Through years of bitter heart-pain 
My pillow I pressed alone, 
Like torch aloft now flaming 
When fanned by wind into life, 
Kindled by love's adoration, 
Fanned into flame by love's strife. 
Naught in the world existent 
But hath its electric mate ; 
Lust of the senses only 
Corrodes to anguish and hate. 
Lord of my soul and breathing, 
Life of my spirit's flame 
Blent in ecstatic flashings 
With currents of love the same. 

Bells of melody ! Ring and swing ! 

Towering trees of might 

Fling out thy laughter, happy laughter, 

Eaglets arrest thy flight ! 

Moon of desire, shine with white fire 

Of sun which flames the skies, 

Fountains now spout, cataracts shout, 

Billows of ocean arise ! 

Stars with thy nebulae, 

Clouds in thy white array, 

Pulse into lightnings glad, 

Storms in the valleys, 

Marshal thine allies, 

Race with tornadoes mad ! 

Heart-frozen hail 

[7] 



Beating like flail 
On breast of the icy earth : 
Kissed by the sun 
Thy life-blood's run 
Spring is caressed into birth. 
I sing thy song, 
Electric mate, 

Of Earth and Sea and Sky. 
The gods above, 
Fulfill their love, 
Nor flame doth pale and die. 
'Tis the purple cup, 
Th' imperial cup, 
The nectar of love divine. 
'Tis wine of life 
And wine of soul, 
The gods' celestial wine ! 
Bathe in it, 
Lave in it, 
Chaunt thy song, 
Wife of thy soul's desire, 
Up through the gates of Agni burst 
On love's electric fire! 
Up through the gates of Agni burst 
Thy spirits laced in one 
With bodies blent 
Where warm earth lent 
A couch 'neath skies and sun. 
Up through the gates 
Of Agni burst 

And there thy song shall break 
Love liquid pearls 

[8] 



In golden swirls 

And radiant splendours make! 

Up through the gates 

Of Agni burst 

Wing thy roulade of joy, 

Nor power in earth 

Nor heaven nor hell 

That bond shall now destroy. 

Leaping, dashing, 

Pulsing, flashing 

A madrigal of light : 

Twisting, turning, 

Twining, swirling, 

In palpitating flight. 

Gods inscrutable, 

Powers indisputable, 

Shout in paeans loud. 

While Elohim great 

Silently wait, 

(Veiled in a shining cloud). 

Till man and mate 

Flash through the gate 

Of God's effulgent source; 

Blent in one flame, 

No longer twain 

On their triumphant course. 



[9] 



THE BRIDEGROOM 

The Chaunt of the Freed Man 

I come with the chaunt 

Of giant free 

From seal and curse of death, 

I pour out my voice 

In battle song 

It mounts on living breath. 

Lo, the sun of peace 

And pow'r of love 

Flash through my windowed soul, 

I have climbed and fought 

And vanquished fear: 

Love is the freedman's goal! 

For love is life 

And sin is death 

The freed mail's self erect, 

All that would darken 

His inner sun 

Triumphant will reject. 

I pour out my song 

With passion pure 

I call "my love" to thee 

Wert thou dead, thou'dst rise 

And bring thy soul 

To soul of him now free. 

For the master-soul, 

Who carries life 

As crown upon his brow 

Is the man on whom 

Pure woman-soul 

[10] 



Her glory will bestow. 

I shout with the joy 

Of glad new life 

My blood with laughter leaps 

And up through my veins, 

Clamour of love 

With mighty passion sweeps. 

Phallus no longer 

Befouled with mire 

Doth leap erect for thee, 

Thou soul of my soul, 

Conjoined through light, 

Destined alone for me. 

Like a king I storm 

The haunts of men 

I claim my homage proud. 

As a god I walk 

The realms of earth 

Veiled m- the inner shroud 

Of a light which bursts 

Through glowing flesh 

Like flame of setting sun, 

While fiery jets 

Of passioned love 

Through soul and body run. 

And the love that my love 

Doth bear to me 

Hath dowered me with might, 

Now free from the soil 

Of earth I stand, 

A god, illumed with light ! 

I chaunt the song 

[11] 



Of Phallus pure 
The gift of Jah divine; 
The symbol of life, 
Mere outward form 
Smiling, the gods resign. 
Soul of the freed man 
Walking the earth 
(Channel I now become) 
And a race of gods 
Descends to us 

The world with wonder dumb ! 
For the love is life 
Phallus the sign, 
Symbol of Jah's decree 
That only through life 
And light and love 
The soul of man is free. 
"Jet out thy semen, 
Fiery soul, 

Clasp thy wife in thine arms, 
Love is immortal 
And lust is death 
Creeping, it slimes and harms !" 

"Ah ! Mouth unto mouth, 
My love, my life, 
Thou bone and breath of me ; 
And again, again, 
I draw thee close 
I pour myself in thee. 
For power and love 
And light and might 

[12] 



Are harnessed in the soul 

Of the man and mate, 

Who reach the gate 

Of God's effulgent goal. 

Now lace my body 

With twining arms 

Close wrap thy form in mine ; 

And steep thee in love's 

Imperial cup, 

This cup alone divine. 

I crush thee and clasp thee, 

I drink thy lips 

Hot rapture fills my groins, 

Thou fount of my life, 

Dream of my days, 

Wife of my soul and loins. 

"Beloved, I heard 
Thee call to me, 
Out in the shining light 
And I found the rope 
Thy woman's love 
Had cast me in thy flight. 
What is it draws me, 
Draws me, draws me? 
Up to thy rosy feet? 
What is it thrills me, 
Fills me, thrills me? 
Thrills me with tremors sweet? 
What is it lifts me, 
Drifts me, lifts me ? 
Lifts me up to the light? 

[13] 



What is it binds me, 
Zones me, twines me, 
Binds me around with might? 
? Tis the soul I've sought 
Through death and hell 
The woman part of me. 
And he who doth find 
His woman part 
The soul of him is free. 
Facet to facet 
And flame to flame 
Mirrored in each they stand 
With the hidden source 
Of love revealed 
To holy fire fanned. 
I clasp thee, crush thee, 
Hold thee, fold thee, 
Mate of my thund'rous soul. 
And my pent-up love's 
Joy jetting fount 
Now finds its long-sought goal. 



[14 



A FRAGMENT 
THE SONG OF THE SOULS MEETING 

Hast ever seen the dancing light of sun upon the 

leaves, 
The jostling rays of light which steal beneath the 

shadowy eaves? 
Hast ever seen the swallow from the nest, go to and 

fro, 
Her mate to call when sunny shafts fell glist'ning 

there below? 
Hast seen the burnished wing of dove stretch out 

beneath the sun 
O'er crimson spur in drowsy mood e'er day's swift 

light was done : 
Beneficent that joyous light and full of life and love 
In-forming with a beauty new the wing of burnished 

dove ? 
Hast seen the kine at drowsy eve lift up their sun-lit 

eyes, 
In wells of mute and untaught love their adoration 

lies : 
They browse in silent deep content and drink the 

sun-rays in 
And fragrant breath from dew-wet grass and sun- 
kissed clover win? 
Hast seen the bee who drowses on the sun-fed shafts 

of light, 
Enamoured of each radiant flower he wingis his 

drowsy flight: 
The fiery opaled humming-bird decks all his jewelled 

throat 

[15] 



With shafts of light, flame tipped with gold where 

beaming sun-rays float. 
The scarlet painted oriole and azure-crested bird, 
Around their forms from sun's white light these 

glowing colours gird? 
Hast ever seen two drops of dew on swaying petals 

stand, 
Petals swaying in the breeze of zephyrs gently 

fanned : 
Hast marked how slowly they would turn each 

pearly drop to each 
Then forth in sudden rush they'd glide the flowers' 

heart to reach; 
And in that last glad flight they'd fuse and merge 

each drop in one 
Pure limpid light reflecting then the rays of self- 
same sun? 
So thou and I, Beloved One, will merge our flashing 

rays 
In selfsame sun of God's great light, when on His 

form we gaze. 
In selfsame robe girt then around, in honour-mantle 

clad, 
We'll make that last great leap to Him in rush of 

spirit glad. 



16 



THE SONG OF THE FLAMING SOUL 
A FRAGMENT FROM THE "HIDDEN WAY" 

Leaping, dashing, falling, flashing, through the halls 
of space, 

Quiv'ring, floating, pealing, groping, blindly in their 
race, 

Hurtling, blazing, ringing, chasing, each o'er each 
they fall, 

Dashing forth in clamorous shout and answer to thy 
call, 

Come the sounds and words of fire from deep vibrat- 
ing strands 

Of God's celestial love-strung lyre 'neath my trem- 
bling hands. 

Soon the rhythm will grow stronger and the words 
will fall 

In rhythmic tread and stately measure answer to thy 
call. 

My limbs are filled with pulse of fire, my soul in rap- 
ture glows, 

My form of light, majestic waves of stellar radiance 
throws 

Afar upon the swooning air which silent sits in might, 

In-harnessed are the winds of Earth, and plumed 
and girt for flight ; 

And leashed are all the Titan forms who cast their 
javelins wide 

With lightning tipped ; and stacked the spears which 
hurl defiant pride — 

Before this God-like crown of joy, Jehovah doth be- 
stow 

[17] 



Their mighty crests of giant strength are bent in 

homage low. 
When dual soul is bound in one, then world of God on 

high 
Bends in its homage vast and deep, while host with 

host doth vie, 
To yield to Him the worship due, Who doth this joy 

bestow, 
And seraph's songs of victory won, fall echoing far 

below. 

I strike the lyre once again, forth tinkling on the air, 
Sweet silver notes with golden tongue their vibrant 

flutings share, 
Swaying, swinging, gliding, ringing, melting in glad 

sound, 
A golden spout of melody from depths of love pro- 
found, 
Bursting in a sparkling show'r, like diamond drops 

of dew 
Meteors clad with rainbow-light, fall flashing into 

view. 
Each golden drop with liquid sound from brimming 

cups overflow 
And plash with sudden ring and chime, to lake of 

love below. 



[18] 



THE SONG OF THE MORNING STAR 

I climb the firmament of God a virgin vestaled bride 

Clothed in the rad'ant light of morn to stand at my 

Love's side. 
The rosy Dawn with fingers deft a gleaming veil hath 

spun 
To garment me and mantle me, the "priestess of the 

Sun." 
I come, I come, O glowing Sol now rend the shim- 

m'ring veil 
And shed thy burning flame upon my silver radiance 

pale: 
With passioned haste I climb to thee my feet with 

wings are shod 
With fiery zeal I seek with thee the altars of our God ; 
Then folded in thy beaming rays I kneel and cry to 

Him, 
And wing my flaming words of song with thee and 

cherubim 
Up to His veiled throne of might, in passioned spirit's 

cry 
Of voiceless love and ecstacy, my tranced soul doth 

fly. 

Fold me to thy glowing breast Sun of love and light 

Merge my being in the flood of thy great blazing 

might. 
Steep my silver rays within thy glowing disc of fire, 

Lace thy golden vesture with the threads of my de- 
sire, 

[19] 



Blend my pale white morning light into thy perfect 

day, 
Love of Love and Soul of Soul baptize me with thy 

ray. 
I hear the stars go singing on their happy stellar 

flight, 
I only wait and climb to thee whose ray doth give me 

light. 
I hear the moon sink whispering to heart of shining 

lake, 
But I leap up to thee, O Love, my thirsting soul to 

slake, 
And when upon thy breast I sink, in rapture deep I 

swoon, 
And none but God doth know our joy, not even yon 

white moon, 
When in the pale sweet light of morn I see thy glow- 
ing face, 
My feet the paths of earth then scorn, I mount and 

fly apace 
To lie in thy enfolding arm, to float upon thy breast, 
In virgin slumber cradled there my soul at last shall 

rest. 

thou crowned and glorious One, thou wondrous 

Sun of light, 

1 know thy beauty, though thy face is veiled as yet 

from sight ! 
Yea, flash and break and beam upon my thirsting soul 

at dawn 
In splintered rays, till all thy love in gems of light 

hath shone. 



[20] 



diadem my form around with jewelled light and 

love 
And twine my silver flame within thy dazzling rays 
above. 

And shall I fear thee, O my King, thou disc of glow- 
ing light 

And shrink before thy shining form when veil is rent 
from sight? 

Nay, but my passioned soul shall turn in swifter 
flight to thee, 

Vibrations then of mighty force shall wrench my 
spirit free, 

And I and thou submerged in one shall swing upon 
our way, 

1 thy priestess, thou my Sun, throughout God's per- 

fect day. 
And who upon the earth shall know whence vestal 

star hath fled, 
Perchance they'll deem her light is quenched or that 

perchance she sped 
Affrighted down the steeps she climbed, hurled by a 

mighty force 
To lower plane, because she dared to follow in thy 

course. 
O dullards, shall I heed their cries when in thy flame 

I sink? 
Their blinded, sodden, earth-grimed eyes, see not the 

silver link: 
And only God shall know our joy, when on thy breast 

I swoon, 



21 



Nor other one the riddle solves, not even yon false 

moon : 
Yet there, Beloved, each new day I'll blaze upon thy 

breast, 
Submerged in thee, evolved again, love circled and 

at rest. 



[22] 



THE SONG OF THE HARVESTER 

Fragment from "The Hidden Way 9 ' 

Behold the feet of her who stands upon the moun- 
tain's side 

How beautiful: in white arrayed like some celestial 
Bride. 

Her feet like budding lilies glow in blossomed beauty 
there, 

A perfume falls like incense sweet from myrtle 
braided hair ; 

Like pomegranates are her lips and she with love is 
clad 

In robes of light ; she hasteth now to meet the bride- 
groom glad. 

"Come forth! my Love, my Bride, and glean the 
golden freighted field, 

Come forth! and bind in lustrous sheaves the har- 
vest's heavy yield. 

Bind them around with supple withes and tendrils 
strong of love, 

Come forth with joyous song and glean, with me, the 
heights above. 

"Thou, God of God! and Light of Light! O Thou 
Majestic King, 

Our welded souls unto Thy feet their joyous harvest 
bring ; 

The sheaves are bound around with light and hoops 
of white desire, 

The molten blend of Luna's love and Sol's trans- 
muted fire." 



23] 



FRAGMENT 
THE SONG OF THE WINE 

Beloved one I flow to thee in purple draught of wine, 
Quench all thy thirst, drink deep and long, O lave 

thy soul in mine. 
O steep thy parched lips within the golden flowing 

bowl, 
Its perfumed stream, which ceaseless flows with wine 

shall make thee whole. 
Spill not the rubied drops upon the blossom of thy 

feet, 
But guard with care the treasure of its perfume rare 

and sweet. 
Ah, fair and white the blossoms fall from that life- 
giving vine, 
But fairer far than bud or bloom is fruit when 

crushed in wine. 
Behold, my love now stands within her garden of 

delight, 
She gathers from the branching vine each bursting 

bud in sight, 
And presses them within her cup, she calleth me to 

share 
The sweet exuded wine of love our lips find hidden 

there. 
Her petalled feet shall tread anon, the towering 

heights on high 
And clustered grapes she'll gather there, where lake 

of love doth lie. 



[24] 



LOVE TRIUMPHANT 
"A DREAM" 

I dreamed that I sculptured a goddess, 

One weary and o'er wrought day, 
And Love was the figure I moulded, 

And the kneaded earth my clay; 
And I shaped her large limbs freely 

And girdled her form around, 
Her flowing hair swept the heavens, 

But her feet with gyves were bound. 

Yet her mouth was filled with laughter, 

Which flowed like waves of the sea, 
While tears downf ell from starry eyes : 

She wept, that she was not free. 
And her breasts were twin white mountains, 

Her loins were zoned with the stars, 
The crown which lay on her brow 

Was shaped like the helm of Mars. 

And forth from her palms outstretched 

Sprang the jewelled buds of light 
Which studded the "Heavens of Sorrow," 

And gleamed through each murky night. 
But the tears which streamed from the portals, 

Of her eyes, in jewels were wrought, 
In diamonds and pearls were gathered : 

With these, her freedom was bought. 



[25] 



Then I stooped and loosed her fetters, 

When upward she sped with a cry 
Of joy which rent the arches 

Of the azure-vaulted sky. 
The wings of her soul unfolded, 

And spread like majestic bird, 
The sound of her song triumphant 

In the hush which followed was heard. 

The ways of Heaven are mighty, 

The wonders of earth supreme, 
And the pinnacle where she stands 

Was the zenith of my dream, 
Where the wheels of life revolving 

Grind the mills of earth below, 
From the cup of her hand's deep hollow 

Perennial love doth flow. 

Where fiery planets circle, 

And comets fly in their wake, 
The Universe in that hollow 

Of her hands, its thirst shall slake, 
For there with unbound fetters 

And her mighty wings unfurled, 
Like a tender watchful mother, 

She broods o'er the sleeping world. 



126] 



THE CLOSED MILLS 

(The Song of the Bolsheviki — the Aftermath) 

There's a wonderful theory abroad, 
A strange mad theory, that God 
Hath closed His cosmic mills ! 

That the wheels have ceased to drive, 
That the mill-race once alive 
Lies stagnant and dead. 

And the shuttered windows loom 
In the eyes of those whose doom 
Is written across the skies. 

There is no God they sneer 
We placed our beings here. 
We are our God! 

We'll put Jehovah to rout, 
And turn the world about 

And smash the barriers down. 

The base, shall wear a crown, 
The pure, we'll drag them down, 
Defile them with our mud ! 

Oh, never on God we'll call, 
Though we like vermin crawl 
Across the face of the Earth. 



27 J 



The cosmic mills are closed, 
And our will is super-imposed 
Upon that workman, God. 



THE AFTERMATH 

But hark! 

There's another theory to recall: 
The mills of God grind slowly 

But they grind exceeding small" 

So slowly they grind, one dreams 
That the wheels no longer revolve 

While man from Love and Duty 
His mud-stained soul would absolve, 



28 



THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE 

Behold I come on a Horse of Night, 

On the lust of gold I feed, 
Hatred and fear I disseminate, 

I am the Spirit of Greed! 
I rule with sceptre of iron strength 

I beat the innocent down. 
I climb to heights o'er writhing forms 

And I grasp and wear a crown. 
I defile the name of King and Priest 

And I crawl beneath each robe, 
In myriad forms I scatter death, 

The hearts of the poor I probe. 
In the seats of might I set my feet, 

I garb myself with light, 
I jeer aloud at the faith of God, 

And the buds of youth I blight. 
I am that one so long foretold, 

I bear the mark of the beast, 
The curse of Hate is great with child, 

I gloat on the coming feast, 
Where carrion crow will feed its fill 

And hounds with a dripping jowl 
Will sate their hunger and their thirst 

In the carnage fierce and foul. 
One form alone of majestic height 

On earth or in heaven I fear 
Who poureth forth such a flood of light 

My burning eye-balls to sear, 
That I fly before Her blazing wrath, 

I cry on the Heavens above 

[29] 



To cover me and to hide me from 

Her flame ; 'tis the flame of Love. 
Beneath that still white heat I dissolve 

As dross doth melt in the fire, 
And Hatred and Greed and Lust and War 

Are consumed on self-same pyre. 
I am the Spirit of Greed, I come 

On a Horse of Darkest Night, 
And only the flaming form of Love 

Can slay or put me to flight. 



30 



THE VEILED SOUL 

There is a thing within us, God alone knows what ; 
Intangible, invisible, with mystery wrought ! 
We seek to know and grasp it, but it doth elude 
Our thought, our sight, our touch, our tears, yea, 

every mood. 
We cry aloud, and kneel, and beat upon the wall 
Of formless void, which doth this mystic thing en- 
thrall. 
We love, and with a sudden joy, we would enfold 
Within our hearts this mystery, but from our hold 
With swift, elusive step, it floats aside and we 
Clasp in our arms the flesh, our senses only see. 
We hold it fast; this warm sweet cloak of fleeting 

thing, 
While round us still, its strange and subtle glamours 

cling 
E'en while we rain caresses on those parted lips, 
The lovely wraith within, with noiseless movement 

slips 
Out through that crevice, and in silence draws apart, 
To view from other world, the flame of leaping heart. 
We seek to bind our love around, with chains of gold. 
No chain hath e'er been wrought, which doth this 

one enfold. 
With veiling garments closely drawn, sphinx-like it 

stands 
Beyond the reach of touch, of stretched imploring 

hands. 
Superb within its solitude and might divine 
In reverence we learn, that we no right resign, 

[31] 



When from our frantic clasp, the soul doth draw 

aside 
And thine and mine, are words the spirit doth deride, 
Save, when two sundered halves are clasped again in 

one, 
Zoned and circled by the links, they alone have spun. 

thing superb in voiceless might, — and sweet dis- 

dain, 

1 clasp thy fair, pale envelope ; then shrink with pain, 
Because I cannot hold thee close, and lip to lip, 
Draw in thy depths most infinite, and daily sip 
From some deep hidden spring of that eternal source, 
Which floweth through thy cup in its celestial course. 
Could I but once, then rend the veil of flesh aside 
And see thy formless form, would I sink terrified 
Before its awful beauty, and its wordless might — 
Or would my seeing eyes be blasted of their sight? 
Would I in maddened ecstacy, my body fling 
Prostrate before the power of that unveiled thing? — 
Thy Soul, O Love, which on its own apex doth stand 
A flaming torch of mystery beyond my hand! 



[32 



THE WHITE ROSE 

Oh, Love! I give thee a rose, 

'Tis pale with a passion divine, 

And e'er it lies on thy heart, Love, 
It has wept out its tears on mine. 

Tears of pain and of anguish 

When its warm young life had fled, 

Tears for the life that was over 
Believing that Love was dead. 

But when I stooped to lay it, 
Wan with its vigil of pain, 

In the grave of my buried passion, 
It quickened to life again. 

A nimbus of light now crowns it, 
A garment of pure white flame, 

And the rose of passion transmuted, 
Its guerdon at last may claim. 

Oh, Love ! I give thee a rose, 
'Twas God who gave it to me, 

Transmuted at last I bring it, 
My Life, My loved One, to thee! 



[33 



LOVE'S CRY 

O give me of thy love, but let it be, 

A draft of life, rich in its infinity : 

Nor time, nor change, nor chance 

Can wreck nor blight 

Nor dim its lustre, while the years take flight. 

O steep thy soul in mine, till I and thee 
Shall lose ourselves in love's wide shoreless sea. 
Or let me drink from thy o'erflowing bowl 
Till all thyself hath flowed into my soul. 

Now draw me up until my lips shall cling 

In raptured glory to that flaming thing, 

Thy radiant Self, majestic in its might, 

Then twain in one, we'll mount in godlike flight. 



[34] 



GOD'S FLOWERS 

Golden Bowl of Earth and Heaven, 

Lips commingled twain in one, 
Bounding heart with purest passion — 

Up-rush the life bloods of the sun. 
God created — man enharboured, 

Swirling flash the germs of life, 
Love-locked deeps now bear fruition, 

Flowering on the breast of wife. 

Babe of love and light and beauty 

Dreaming on thy mother's breast : 
Passion pure thy form hath moulded, 

Love-lips close on love-lips prest. 
Nature breathes her purest passion 

When fires of Earth and Heav'n combine, 
And the dross of lust is burned out 

In God's crucible divine. 



35 



TO 
THE DWELLER IN THE FOREST 

A Group of Nature Sonnets 

1 

O tired one, who, stretched upon the grass 

Pressing thy face, and eyes still wet with tears, 
To Mother Earth : behold the night doth pass 

With hushed and tender footsteps, and appears 
Far in the East, all panoplied with light 

An Orb of fire, which bursts the gates of Dawn, 
His passioned zeal but hastes her trembling flight 

And flaming pageants in his train are drawn. 
The Mighty Hunter with his fiery steeds 

Trumpets a blast upon the horn of Day. 
All Earth responds, the orbed Monarch leads 

And once again resumes his potent sway. 
Heart-weary one of Earth, behold and see 
How from before his face the shadows flee ! 



The eager Earth doth wake with melting sigh 

All veiled within a mist of happy tears. 
Like Love-mate She ; with lashes not yet dry 

Who kissed to gladness, laughs away her tears. 
With joyous trills the birds break into song, 

The flowers sway and bend upon their stocks, 
Each leaflet sings amidst the murm'ring throng, 

The shepherd rising leads afield his flocks. 
Behold, O Soul, who peace from storm hath sought, 

Who from the fevered marts of man hath fled, 

[36] 



How each fair day this miracle is wrought 

From fount of life the Universe is fed! 
Here shalt thou drink from breast of Mother Earth 
The white fire's stream, which gave thy flesh-form 
birth. 

3 

Look how beneath thy feet a carpet thick 

Of needle pines hath fallen sweet with myrrh, 
And pungent scent doth in thy nostrils prick 

When with thy feet, thou dost the needles stir. 
The cones now stark upon the ground and still 

Like Soldiers lie, on battlefield when slain 
Once upright forms, all shrivelled sere and chill 

Their duty filled, count neither loss nor gain. 
The mighty Oak which stands apart from thee 

A few short strides, and rears titanic crest 
As sentinel hath stood, and from the lea 

Hath caught the lash of wind full on his breast 
O Soul, so weary of the earth-born din, 
The peace of God flows only from within. 

4 

Thy cheek now pallid with the stress of pain 

Lean down upon this bank of humid moss, 
How cool and tender with the sweet of rain, 

No fevered head could on such pillow toss, 
But soothed to rest as if some holy hand 

With mystic touch, had stilled the throbbing there 
While soft slow-swaying ghostly zephyrs, fanned 

By wind's thin breath, trail over brow and hair. 

[37] 



Perennial doth this mossy pillow lie 

Upon the fair sweet bosom of the Earth — 

The sons of men, unheeding pass it by 

Whence flows such stream of new electric birth. 

O fill thy cup, Beloved, from God's fount, 

'Tis stream of life, which through her breast doth 
mount. 

5 

Behold how straight the pale white nun flow'rs grow, 

Some say that there the feet of Death have past, 
And chill white death-flow'rs in the sod they sow 

Where e'er his form its gloomy shadow cast. 
Methinks they are the tears of such as thee 

Who strive in battle with the flesh and sin ; 
Who seek for peace, but fettered still, nor free 

Know naught of how the battle they shall win. 
O lean thy face to earth and press thine ear 

Close to the sward and hear the secret bliss 
Of all that stirs within her womb, for dear 

And tender was the flaming Sun's warm kiss. 
The Cup of love, when by pure passion filled, 
Gives potent peace, and pain forever stilled. 



6 

Beneath thine eyelids, how the slow tears well 
And all thy face is furrowed by pale grief, 

Because thou know'st not how thy pain to quell 
And seek in darkness, for thy soul's relief. 

O lift thine eyes unto the dawning Morn 
Clad in her robes of mystic rose and white ; 

[38] 



How in the arms of Night, in raptured swoon 
She sheds to us the glory of her light: 

Nor doth she shrink from his enfolding clasp 
Nor toys with love, but there upon his breast 

With sudden rapture, sinks within his grasp 
In glad surrender to his bosom prest. 

He is her lord, She is his light, they twain 

Melt into one, nor from love's bliss refrain. 



7 
O look thy fill upon the Earth and see 

How only man and beast their birthright sell. 
How all with light informed, from lust is free 

And he alone doth ring his Soul's sad knell. 
The fountains murmur loud in sportive glee 

When each to each ecstatic speed and fall 
The great man-sinewed moss-engirdled tree 

With branch entwined doth hold his mate in thrall. 
Each clings to each with softly whispered sigh 

Nor seeks to break the golden chain of fate ; 
Love thralls their feet : if wrenched apart they'd die 

For love when pure draws only mate to mate. 
O tired Soul, canst thou e'en yet not see 
That love, not lust the Soul of man doth free. 



8 

For everything beneath the face of God 
There is one mate, one only, glad and pure 

Until that mate is found, were all earth trod 
The pangs of hell, must soul of man endure. 

[391 



O place upon thy breast that mandrake bloom 

And learn how its long quest of love hath sped 
How forth the pollen borne in night and gloom 

O'er tarn and hill, the eager search hath sped. 
On every side fair flow'rets beckoned him 

And fluttered softly, sighed and wept and smiled : 
His mate he sought — the light was blurred and dim 

But from its path, the pollen unbeguiled 
Sped on the search: At last in morass found 
Their union sealed — 'twas by love's glory crowned. 

9 
Hast ever seen the goss'mer wing of bee 

Against the sky, in ardent am'rous flight 
His rivals distanced he alone doth flee 

Before the lash of love, his troth to plight? 
Up, up into the ether of the sky 

On flashing wing, the flight is lost to view : 
Before his love, she loving still doth fly, 

She seeks to prove his passion loyal and true. 
And then, Ah me ! within that nuptial bed 

Of ether vast, a blue cerulean lake 
Unseen of man, by God's hand upward led 

The purple cup of royal love, they take. 
And thrills of joy through nature's bosom run 
E'er yet the wonder of that tryst is done. 

10 

Oh, dry the slow, sad tears from off thy face, 
Thou tired one, now dwelling in the glade 

Steep thy parched lips within the feathery lace 
Of growing fern, and iris in the shade. 

[40] 



Upon thine eyelids press the myrtle's bloom, 

Its balmy fingers cool the fiery pain, 
As when the lamps of heaven dispel the gloom 

And burning heat is quenched by cooling rain. 
Stretch now thy weary frame upon the soil 

And fill thy soul with mystic stream of might. 
Learn thou, that on the unborn race recoil 

The broken laws of God, of love, and light. 
Within the forest glade on Nature's breast 
Thou'lt find the law of love and light confest. 

11 

Hast ever heard the whispered song which flows, 

A song of joy from young fair tender things 
In smothered joyance 'neath the pallid snows 

Its cadence soft, upwells and lilts and sings ? 
They sing of birth and love and life and light, 

They sing of stately trees and swaying flow'rs, 
Of bees and birds in their glad upward flight, 

Of summer winds and golden sunclad hours. 
They almost see the Yarrow standing straight 

Like airy sprite upon the meadow green, 
And Columbine now swaying by her mate 

Enrobed within her crimson garments sheen. 
Canst hear the note which thrills that unborn throng, 
The note of love which builds them pure and strong? 

12 

Oh, feel the wet-drip falling on thy cheek, 
A pallid mist of silver chaliced tears : 

It is the dew of heav'n which earth doth seek 
To purge her beauty e'er her love appears. 

[41] 



How still upon the grass, like mantle fair 

With pearls inwrought and arabesques of light 
Doth fall the mist and now shut in from glare 

Of garish day, she doth perform her rite. 
When morning dawns with love's new rapture 
thrilled, 

Her trembling frame now wooed and won anew 
To sudden beauty — all her being filled 

Pulses again to him beneath the blue. 
O dweller in the glade, Earth's litany 
Lies ever there, behold and read and see. 

13 

Ah, stand and listen here within thy glade 

When night hath fallen and the wind doth sleep. 
When Darkness on the lips of Earth hath laid 

His finger, pressing her to silence deep. 
If thou wilt lay thine ear upon her breast 

And silent lie, and harken with thy soul 
Then shalt thou lose thine aeons of unrest, 

And all thy myriad lives shall from thee rolL 
There deep within her breast lie peace and love, 

And tranquil power and majesty serene, 
The love-mate she of flaming lord above, 

He is her lord and she his radiant queen. 
Ah, few within the haunts of man can know 
What perfect peace, from perfect love doth flow. 

14 

Didst ever steep thy parched lips within 

The bubbling spring, which cool and limpid flows 

[42] 



Deep in the shade, where all its merry din 

Doth strike the air, where silver birch tree grows. 
Within that draught thou'lt find a bitter tang 

Of root and shrub and blended rust and nail, 
But, oh, the sweetness, slaking every pang! 

For draught like this, what heights man's foot will 
scale ! 
And yet, O earth-born man, the draught of love 

Long sought with tears and bitter tang of woe 
Doth bring to earth the bliss of heav'n above 

If once 'tis found and quaffed by twain below. 
O rest thee now upon this bed of fern 
And resting there, all earth's fair secrets learn. 



15 

Dost know that when the Winter berries glow 

Like crimson jewels encased in em'rald green, 
They are the gems and tokens he'd bestow 

That hoary monarch on his pallid queen. 
In circlet-rare, like drops of scarlet blood 

Entwined they lie upon her ivory brow 
O'er field and fen, o'er mountain tarn and flood 

He weaves the wreath and on to her doth plough, 
And when his queen in ermine mantle clad 

Doth tremble 'neath the passion of his kiss 
This diadem of rapture pure and glad 

Is but one token of their new-found bliss. 
Dost think there's aught unholy in God's plan? 
Nay only where lust lives, in haunts of man! 



43 



16 

O dweller in the forest here thy grief 

Shall healed be, and thy starved soul shall feed 
Upon the Word which ever brings relief 

To darkened ones, and blinded eyes which bleed 
Sad tears of woe; distraught they seek the light 

Where blinder men, still lead the groping blind 
To gloomy realms, lost in the trough of night 

And ever seeking, still no light they find. 
Here 'neath the blue ethereal vault of heav'n 

Thy tired soul may lift its eyes and see 
Beneath the silent stars and moon at ev'n, 

How all within the world of God is free. 
Each one may find his one God-given mate 
Or ever stand without Love's sealed gate. 



[44] 



A SONG 

A little bird loved a bee, 

How strange, how strange ! 
He swung on the bough of a tree 
And he sang to that bumblebee, 
How strange, how strange ! 

The bumblebee loved a flow'r, 

Quite right, quite right. 
And he spent each sun-laden hour 
In the heart of that soft white flow'r. 

Quite right, quite right. 

The little bird fled in a rage, 

How sad! how sad! 
His passion he could not assuage, 
'Tis the same though in every age, 

How sad !_ how sad! 

The bee and the flow'r were wed, 

I'm glad, I'm glad ; 
They slept in a downy white bed, 
Where the stars their radiance shed, 

I'm glad, I'm glad. 

Love was the nectar they drank, 

Ah me! ah me! 
And they dwelt on a green clad bank 
Where the sun in jealousy sank, 

Ah me! ah me! 

[45] 



The little bird found a mate, 

I alone, I alone! 
Stand at love's shut-gate 
As an exile there I wait, 

I alone, I alone ! 



[46 



HIS CREED 

Out of the mystic darkness, 
I came from I know not where, 

And I don't know how I'm headed — 
Sometimes I'm damned if I care. 

Out of the still white silence 

Spun off from the Earth's great wheel, 
Into the rush and madness — 

I'd be a poltroon to squeal. 

Into a seething cauldron 

A city of lust and greed, 
Festering with its passions 

Avarice and gain, in the lead. 

I try to be clean and decent, 

To be honest and straight and true, 

Though I don't know where I'm headed, 
Yet, damn me, if I don't win through. 

I'd scorn to hurt a woman, 

To smirch her by word or deed, 

For woman will save our manhood. 

Sneer then, if you will, it's my creed. 

She wears the one white garment 
That we have fouled in the mud, 

Then shielded ourselves like cowards. 
By God ! but we need the blood 



47 



Of a Christ, a thousand Christs, 
To wipe out the craven stain 

Of the lust that we call love — 
God ! but I blush with shame ! 

Is there a God in heaven, 

A God in the mystic "Where"? 

If He is the Church-prated monster, 
I'm damned again if I care. 

But I lay e're birth in a womb 
Of a woman, a mother, a wife, 

And drank from the fount of her love. 
Look you ! she gave me her life ! 

D'ye know what a mother's love is? 

God, but her soul is white, 
And every mother'd be shrined 

If this mad world were right. 

Every woman's a mother 

At heart, though right be denied. 
Maid and wife and spinster, 

Yea, they are all sanctified. 

And we like beasts and carrion 

Drag them into the mud, 
And the church laughs gaily with us, 

Nay Christ, but we need thy blood. 

Somewhere out in the darkness 
Flaming with a great white light, 

[48] 



Hidden from our mole-like blindness 
Sits a god who would blast our sight. 

Could we look on her form majestic, 

A woman-in-man, a God! 
We'd call on the rocks to hide us, 

We'd grovel and bite the sod. 

Blindly we'll creep to Her knees, 
Then look with amaze in Her face, 

Tired and dusty and grimed 
'Twill be just "Our Mother 55 and space. 

The fight will be forgotten, 

The pain, the struggle, the fret, 

And the mad wild rush for pleasure, 
And with tears on eyelids wet, 

We 5 U just look into Her eyes, 

Then lay our head on Her breast, 

And, damn me, if I don't win through, 
For the joy of that "Mother rest." 



[49 



A FRAGMENT 
SONG 

Lilies ope' thy blossoms fair 
Swaying on thine emerald stalks, 

With perfume rare 

Fill thou the air, 
Where with petalled feet she walks. 

Not her earth-form now I see 
But her soul which leaps to me, 

With lovely laugh, 

The cup to quaff, 
Buds to gather from the "Tree." 

Bursting buds ; with happy laugh 
Flowing purple wine to quaff 
'Neath "tree of life," 
Is hid from strife 
Chaliced cup of joy to quaff. 

Clustered grapes of joy to crush 
Forth in rubied streams they gush, 

With purple light 

In joyous flight 
To her petalled feet they rush. 

Myrtle-braided is her hair: 
Spirit bathed in perfumes rare, 
O glad delight, 
Now plumed for flight, 
See the mystic cup is there! 

[50] 



O thou bud of sweet delight 

Haste thee, haste thee in thy flight 

The veil grows thin, 

O haste within 
To gardens lit with love and light. 

Pulsing flame of whitest fire 
Ever up, aspire, aspire, 

Thy flame and mine 

On wings divine 
Soars to hidden sphere yet higher. 

Bathed in living stream of light 
Upward, upward still our flight, 

Till at His feet 

In passion sweet, 
Dazzling glory blinds our sight. 



[51] 



AN INTERLUDE 

Bud of sweet delight, 

Thy soul and mine 
On selfsame stalk 

Now grow and twine; 
Thy blossom white 

Now folds my heart 
Secure within, 

Of thee a part. 

Pearling drop of dew 

Thy prism bright, 
A mirror is 

For my glad sight: 
Reflected there, 

Myself I see 
Thy face upturns 

Its light to me. 

Lily white and fair, 

Thy blossomed soul, 
Upon my breast 

Hath found its goal. 
O sceptred one, 

Enthroned there, 
A reign of love 

With me thou'lt share. 

Rubied gem of light 
Thy dazzling fire 

In purple shafts 
With mine aspire: 

[52] 



Which flaming glow 

In living light 
And round thee throw 

A garment white. 

Bud of sweet delight, 

Thou glowing pearl, 
Around thy sphere 

My tendrils curl, 
In shafts of flame 

They leap and twine, 
Till radiant sphere 

Is fused in mine. 

Gem of earth and heav'n, 

Thou pearl of God 
Thy lonely way 

At length is trod: 
For thou and I 

Flame now in one 
Glad glowing sphere, 

The quest is done. 



53 



MATURITY 

What is a woman's soul, O God — a deep reflex of 

Thine, 
Touched with thy flaming finger tip and sealed with 

Thy mark divine ? 
E'en when she falls to lowest depths and bathes her- 
self in sin, 
E'en then the spark divine unquenched, glows ever 

on within. 
Blackened, smirched and all defaced the citadel yet 

stands, 
And only God can see the spark that flamed forth 

from His hands. 
Ah, strange and complex is the soul deep hid in 

woman's breast, 
Like leaping sea 'tis ever filled with storm and sad 

unrest ; 
Because her spirit fine doth move to every passing 

wind, 
And tendrils of her heart must be, round something 

ever twined. 
But oft the beauty of her love will hide some leprous 

thing 
And o'er some soul distorted growth, a tender 

glamour fling. 
God heeds not all the sad mistakes of Life, when 

tempest tost, 
But from the mire doth pluck the bud, which man 

would deem well lost, 



[54] 



He breathes upon the stained leaves and fills the 

heart with dew 
Which parched with drought had turned aside when 

mirage fell in view. 

Ah, God is just where man is cruel. He knows the 

soul's own pain 
Which fainting on the desert falls, clear fountains 

sought in vain. 
O, mad and base illusion that drives man to smirch 

the fame 
Of that fair soul, the woman-soul who dual part doth 

claim. 
God made not man himself complete, nay only shall 

he stand 
Attuned to perfect God-hood, when the dual soul is 

spanned. 

Can body move along through earth when maimed 

and cut in twain? 
Then neither moves the Spirit on till soul clasps soul 

again. 
'Twas not from petty mind of man the thought of 

man evolved, 
But from the mighty soul of Him, who heaven holds 

enthralled. 
Each star He circled to its place and holds it ever 

there 
A drop within His universe which doth His glory 

share, 



[55] 



And from His deep unfathomed soul of God-hood 

and of love 
The image which He made complete to dwell with 

Him above 
No flaw can have, nor knowledge lack, when sifted 

by His hand, 
The twain-in-one, the dual-soul before Him then 

shall stand 
Supernal in its majesty and crowned 'neath tree of 

life, 
The twain-in-one, the fire-soul and love-encircled 

wife; 
And thus when man with wanton touch defiles the 

woman's soul 
Himself defiles and doth retard his progress to that 

goal. 



[56] 



THE NEW SONG OF A NEW CYCLE 

And the Earth rose up and chaunted 

A song that was new and divine: 

She sang of a wonderful life 

Hid deep in the Valley of Time, 

Of days when men would be brothers, 

When Love would come into her own: 

And the world would be filled with laughter 

With never the sound of a moan. 

She sang of a new sweet cycle 

Sweeping up through the vale of tears 

With face of purified angel 

And spirit all purged of her fears, 

Who'll gather men to her bosom, 

And teach them the "New Song" of love, 

And feed their souls with contentment 

The manna which falls from above. 

Then none shall barter his soul for gain, 
Nor the lust of that gold which kills 
And the new sweet sound of laughter, 
Shall be heard again on the hills. 
And the burning beauty of God, 
Shall leaven the heart of each man 
While the flame of His spirit upblazing 
Their own still flames shall fan. 
Till the self is cleansed and shriven, 
And the goal for which men shall strive 
Will be neither place nor power, 
And not one the other shall drive. 
Each purified face shall mirror 

[571 



The lustre of God from above — 
The home of a shriven spirit, 
And a heart that is steeped in love — 
This is the goal they will strive for 
In the new glad days yet to come 
When the rule of flesh is ended 
And the reign of spirit begun. 



[58 



THE VERY GOD OF VERY GOD 

In the depths of Time's abyss 

E'er womb of Ether conceived 
E'er the breath of life was stirred 

Or the joy of birth achieved, 
Where Silence crouched in anguish 

And sweltering darkness swam, 
Forth from the void of ether, 

Sprang the Soul of the Great I Am. 

Himself that swelt'ring darkness, 

And He, that Abyss of Time, 
And His the cry of anguish, 

When He rent that womb sublime. 
Born of Himself, and in Him 

Then arose that Primal Force, 
Which loosed the bonds of ether 

As it burst from th' Eternal Source. 

The mighty shroud of darkness 

Shook with a spasm of pain : 
The great deep void of chaos 

Then flashed into fiery flame ; 
And Silence crouched in anguish 

Broke into a god-like cry 
Which echoed through the spaces 

Where the fields cerulean lie. 

In throes of birth convulsive 
Then up from deep ether welled 



[59 



A flood of seething liquid, 

By His God-like law 'twas held. 

From a womb of chaos emerged, 

The Creator of Heaven and Earth, 

Eternity zoned His loins 

And the breadth of His mighty girth, 

His hands engulfed the spaces, 

And kneaded each form like dough, 
His breath like a whirling wind, 

Went searching, both high and low. 
His voice as a thousand trumpets 

Rang out o'er the walls of night 
And shook their deep foundations 

Till the darkness was merged in light. 

Who can speak of His glory? 

Or who can describe His face? 
His magnitude and His Power 

Which fill all the domes of space? 
Were Earth a shape Titanic 

Studded with a million eyes, 
The driving clouds a vesture, 

And the floods but a deep disguise ; 

Were mountain tops but pillars 
Which held this Titan aloft, 

The valleys a cup from which 
His daily nectar was quaffed, 

Then man might grasp this wonder — 
The might of a giant form, 



60] 



Who hurled the bolts of thunder, 
As he rode on the flying storm. 

But He who is the birth-form, 

Of the Universe crashed in one, 
Who sheds his bright effulgence, 

Through the eye of blazing Sun 
Each finite mind must falter 

When shaping that marv'lous Soul, 
The cosmic world His vesture 

While His hands engulf the whole. 

A God of Might Majestic 

And a God of love divine, 
Who rent Himself asunder, 

And gave us the Christ sublime! 
How long shall He forgotten 

Yearn over each wand' ring soul? 
Who's might, each birth encompassed 

And whose hands engulf the whole. 



[61] 



THE DREAM FACE 

Fragment from "The Hidden Way''' 

Beloved, thou hast seen the face, which bends o'er 

sleeping babe, 
When soft within its downy nest the fretful child is 

laid, 
With trembling lip half sobbing still and eyes dew 

drenched with rain 
Of tears, which fall o'er rounded cheek, still flushed 

with childish pain : 
Thou'st seen the face of her who bends above the 

sleeping one 
Lit by a radiance pure and soft like rays from veiled 

sun, 
She leans and soothes the weary child with touch 

divine and sweet, 
'Neath which the tumult of his heart beats van- 
quished swift retreat: 
And all the incense of her soul infolds each drowsing 

limb, 
Till soon the dreaming child is lost in clouds of 

fragrance dim; 
But deep within these odours and from out that 

dream-lit space, 
The tired babe looks back to see the mother's tender 

face. 

"Lullaby" 

"Sleep softly, my beloved one, O rest thee in mine 

arms, 
Let not thy soul be troubled now by any rude alarms. 

[62] 



O press the flower of thy face close to my brooding 

heart, 
The stalk which bore thy blossomed bud is of thy- 
self a part. 
On waves of my love's ocean then swing softly to and 

fro, 
Lulled gently by the ripples and the murmur of its 

flow. 
O rest thee in the cradle of my nested arms which 

hold 
Thy swaying bud of fragrant life, whose petals all 

unfold. 
Out on the sea of dreaming sleep now let thy glad 

barque fly, 
No storm shall wreck thy vessel, Love, while I the 

helm ply; 
And through the maze of wanderings where lies the 

golden land, 
I'll guide thy dreaming footsteps still and hold thy 

tender hand : 
And there beneath the rainbow thou shalt find that 

mine of gold, 
As vast as my love's ocean which doth all thy soul 

enfold." 



[63] 



PASSION AND REBIRTH 

Hot within my heart raged the loosened dogs of hell, 
While my blood like molten fire raced within my 
veins. 
My eyes were scorched as with white flames — God 
were they tears? 
I sprang upon my Arab steed, and flung to her the 
reins. 

Her hoofs swept o'er the earth in wild and thunder- 
ous beat. 
Like hiss of falling sword, the wind swept past 
my cheek. 
But faster o'er the desert, raged within my heart 
The dogs of hell: and hate, rose up with sudden 
shriek. 

Allah, Allah, hear my prayer, give me strength to kill 
That hated one, who hath bereft with mighty 
wrench, 
From sleeping arms, — "my Soul's desire,"— O give 
me strength, 
To steep my hands within his blood: my hate to 
quench. 

O'er threshold of my tent, he stole with silent feet, 
With swift and noiseless jerk, the thongs were 
round me fast, 
With tearless moan, from out my arms, my bride was 
wrenched, 
And o'er my head, the stifling folds of burnouse 
cast. 

[64] 



I've lived and slept, and lived, a thousand thousand 
years. 
Nations have failed from earth, and left no name 
nor trace, 
Yet never in my heart, nor in each coursing vein 
Hath stilled been, the tumult of that fearful 
race. 

With ghastly strength I burst the bonds which cut 
my flesh, 
The blood leaped out and gushed from lacerated 
limbs, 
My eyes were shot with scorching pains ; God were 
they tears? 
And in my heart the dogs of hell raced with the 
winds. 

Allah! hear me while I pray; Slake this hellish 
thirst 
With crimson fount of blood, in desert of my 
hate. 
Nay let the curse rebound on me to endless day, 
But give my lance new strength, nor grant it be 
too late. 

And Allah heard: my steed was shod with wings of 
might — 
My lance with swift exultant shriek launched in 
his side. 
But he, O curse him! Curse him! slew my "Soul's 
Desire." 
And spilled her blood e'er he himself had died. 

[65] 



The very rocks upheaved with pain, the shudd'ring 
earth, 
Went sliding from my feet, while spasms of mad 
fears 
Shook the Arab steed, drove her snorting o'er the 
plains, 
My eyes were scorched, as with hot fires, — God 
were they tears? 



Thou knowest the heart, O Mighty One! What 
matters name? 
Allah, Buddha, Thoth or God, Thou who rul'st on 
high, 
O still the riot in my soul and quench this pain. 

Which doth e'en yet rise up and wring my heart 
and cry 

In ceaseless tumult still, my soul doth writhe in 
tears, 
O quench the scorching flame; pour ashes on the 
fire 
After these weary years, if 'tis Thy will, O give 
Again, the guiding light of my own Soul's Desire. 

Music. Mendelssohn* s Songs Without Words 
No. 17 Op. 38 Agitato 



[66] 






THE BATTLE OF LOVE AND DEATH 

The wars of the Earth are mighty 
But they pale like a ghostly wraith 

'Neath shout and thunder of battle 

That is waged between Love and Death. 

When Death from the entrails of Hate 

Sprang to life with a mighty bound 
He, suckled on blood of vanquished, 

Full-fledged, matured and crowned; 
(Yea crowned with daggers of envy 

In a mantle of midnight hue, 
The stars of heaven a third 

In his smouldering track he drew) — 
Belched forth from his gaping maw 

(For it dripped with a foetid gore) 
A challenge to fearful battle 

Which rang out from shore to shore. 

Then Love stepped down from her Kingdom 

And caught up the challenge of Death 
Though she reeled and paled with horror 

'Neath the blast of his noisome breath. 
She, clothed around in the garments 

Of a radiant and blazing Sun, 
Stepped down in terrible beauty: 

Man's soul the prize to be won ; 
In garments of glory blazing 

With visage both awful and sweet 
On her brow the planets of Heaven 

And the pallid moon at her feet. 

T 67 1 



Two pinions vast as of eagle 

Sprang forth at her word of command 
And bore her beyond the vapours 

Which Death with his foul-breathing fanned. 
Then rang forth a sudden clamour 

And clashed their fierce swords in mid-air 
While the mighty hosts of heaven 

Were arrayed in majesty there. 
From the brow of Love went streaming 

Such a silver radiance bright 
To strike down the fierce black tyrant 

To blast and shrivel his sight. 

Then forth with a cry of thunder 

And a hideous wail of pain 
Death launched out his fearful weapons 

'Midst a deluge of fiery rain. 
And he scorched the plains and meadows 

And awoke both Famine and Sin 
While Pestilence rose in menace, 

And her cry was heard through the din. 
They rent the burning volcanoes 

And they snatched up the boiling flood 
And poured forth the molten liquid 

Like a gleaming torrent of blood. 

And they hurled the bolts of lightning 
Which broke with the thunders of doom 

Flashing o'er terrible spaces 
In a hail of fiery spume. 

They crashed into each like Met'ors, 

Then they sprang back again to breathe; 

(681 



The shudd'ring gasp of their breathing 
Caused the Earth's foundations to heave. 

Then Death belched forth in malice 
A flood, overwhelming the world 

And man killed man, in madness 

Where the bolts of his hate were hurled. 

But Love leaning down, now caught up 

In a torrent of tender desire 
The soul of man who had spurned her 

And she sealed him to her with fire. 
That flame of her seal is branded 

Deep down in the depths of his soul 
Though blinded by Death he wots not 

Yet staggers still on to her goal — 
Weeping, some day he will find her, 

Repenting he'll fall at her feet 
And plead for her dear forgiveness 

And the crown that makes life complete. 



[69 



THE GOD OF WAR 

There's a form as black as midnight 

Stands astride the gulf of Time 
His bulk is vast and fearful, 

And his hands are steeped in crime. 
His crown is formed of daggers, 

Shaped upon his anvil black: 
And studded close with embers, 

That fall smouldering in his track. 

And he wields a mighty weapon, 

'Tis a two-edged sword of steel 
'Neath blows which cleave asunder 

All his cow'ring subjects reel; 
Like monstrous bat his mantle 

Streams upon the wind afar, 
And gloom fills all his kingdom, 
Never pierced by gleam of star. 

When he whirls his sword in menace, 

Till red-hot it ploughs the land, 
Then only God can smite him, 

Or withstay his fearful hand. 
When kings of earth in battle, 

Sate the "maw of Death" with blood, 
He bursts in sombre laughter, 

And exultant fords the flood. 

Then his knees are stained with scarlet, 
And his hands are red with gore, 



70] 



His mantle black is spattered, 

Where it sweeps 'neath Heav'n's floor 
Who is this mighty tyrant? 

Whose gullet is filled with wine, 
Of blood and tears and wailing 

While human bones are his shrine? 

'Tis War, that hideous monster, 

Evolved from the lust of hate 
Matured he sprang to power, 

Usurping a vast estate ; 
The power which he dethroned 

Was the shining form of Love, 
From the brain of man he sprang, 

To usurp her place above. 



[71 



THE SONG OF THE LARK 

Oh, the grass is growing, 
And the wind is blowing, 

And the river flows out to the sea, 
While I float o'er the world 
With pinions unfurled 

And sing of my love and thee. 

Oh, the trees are sighing, 
And the clouds are flying, 

And the sun is climbing the sky, 
And my little bird-love 
Who is singing above 

Calls to me from on high. 

And I rise, I arise 

To the vault of the skies 

Afloat upon tremulous ether, 
To my birdling I come 
As she soars to the sun 

With all the world beneath her. 

No mortal in sight 

In the pale morning light 

When I sing my matutinal song, 
For the world is asleep 
As it lies at my feet, 

And stilled are the human throng. 

I only awake 

With my little bird mate, 

And our notes are a-thrill with praise 

[72] 



For the sun and the shade, 
Which Jehovah hath made, 
And the glory of His ways. 

Alone, quite alone, 

Almost up to God's throne, 

We float on the palpitating air, 
And with passionate note 
From each joyous bird- throat 

We fling out our morning prayer. 



[73 



THE WITCH OF THE NORTH 

Truculent, turbulent bitter north, 

Crash of the ice-block storm. 
What is the prize which lures our hearts 

To the feet of that shrouded form ; 
Ever retreating, advancing, receding, 

Luring us on to the light 
Till tortured we fall in the grip of death, 

Entombed in cimmerian night? 

Lashed by the whip of the driving wind 

Eyelids seared as by fire. 
Bursting in spume, the snow drives on, 

Till our heart-strings, taut as a lyre, 
Twang forth in a muffled sibilant breath 

A sob, a cry of despair, 
And stumbling, we drag our haggard forms 

To the mouth of the "White Witch" lair. 

Truculent, turbulent bitter north 

Balked of thy long-sought prey ; 
Crooning and cradling us in her arms 

The White Witch bears us away. 
Through the flying spume and crashing floe, 

Into the welkin's blue; 
And there close prest, to her frozen breast 

The goal we have sought lies in view. 

Up to the ice-peak's shimmering gleam 
We lift our snow-blinded eyes, 

[741 



And, lo ! in the wake of the glowing sun 

The gate of our pathway lies. 
'Tis the wide white gate of Death we see 

Not the mystic "Pole" in the blue. 
We laugh and tremble and die on her breast 

For the White Witch carries us through. 



75 



LOVE'S CROWN 

Oh, sceptred one, and lord of my whole life, 

At last I cling in rapture to thy side 
Enfolded in like Eve the primal wife 

And second Adam by Love deified. 
No longer twain, but one 'neath selfsame shroud 

Of light, our garment now no robe of shame 
To hide our nakedness — erect and proud 

Before the hidden throne our crown we claim. 
Hadst thou not found me, O thou lordliest one, 

And manacled my questing soul to thee 
In truth, the Earth asunder from the Sun 

Had burst in torment to the belching Sea. 
With finger now on lip doth Nature scan 

The distance far for coming God — in man. 



[76] 



L'ENVOI 

'Tis only lust that creeps and hides 

'Tis only lust that kills, 
'Tis Love alone that sanctifies 

And soul and spirit thrills. 
'Tis lust that skulks and hides behind 

A fair and outward show 
And round the dazzled moth doth seek 

A glamoured light to throw. 
'Tis Love that hastes to diadem, 

The woman-soul when found 
And as a sceptred wife is she 

In zone of light inbound. 

Yet there are those who call them wives, 

Have filched the crown of light 
And built their stolen Kingdom on 

A base of blackest night. 
Filched for greed of place and pow'r 

For that which they might win, 
And they the honour-mantle wear 

And bind their partner in 
A web of sin, a stygian pool : — 

To eyes unveiled, they lie 
As festering sores, and larvse creep 

Where greed with lust doth vie. 

'Tis Love that lifts the flower up 
When beaten to the ground, 

'Tis Love that seeks to strengthen her, 
When woman-soul is found. 

[77] 



'Tis seeking-love which ever cries 

"Appear — O Heart appear, 
Thy soul-blind lord, once reft from thee 

Is ever waiting here." 
And when the Earth shall learn again 

The "Song of Songs" anew 
Then forth the angel-crowned shall leap 

His dazzling form in view. 
As lustrous star, the "twain in one," 

Is zoned around with light ; 
Then torn from base to base shall be 

The "KINGDOM OF THE NIGHT." 



78 



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